Frustration

I would love for someone to explain to me how one teenager can be all about getting good grades for college, and another is all about doing as little as necessary to keep average to sub-par grades?

Care to guess which category Joe Cool is in? I know the problem is that he doesn't want to deal with the pressure of hard work- he avoids it like the plague. Not a high-stress coping kind of guy. Hopefully, he will live a long life by being his mellow, fun-loving self.

To make it even better (by that , I mean worse), he got his results back on the ACT test- basically a test given to tell you, based on your scores, what area of skill you might consider for a career as an adult. It could be interesting, I suppose, to see if the test might help narrow down your choices since there is such a great big,wide world out there and deciding on one thing can be hard.
On the other hand, this test could also make you feel like a moron who is doomed to ditch digging in the swamps. Joe said he wanted to perhaps consider the education field- maybe a teacher. He was shot down. He was told he scored below college readiness in all areas- English, Math, Reading and Science. Why? Because he is not in honors classes. He was then given suggested career choices based on his scores...
My son, one of the most friendly, lovable, kind young men, was told he might consider Manufacturing(tool & dye maker, dry cleaner), Mechanics (Auto/aircraft mechanic), Transportation Operation (cab/bus driver-yes, it actually lists that), and some other jobs, none of which he has ever been interested in. While I do not consider any of these jobs bad, so to speak, I was very disheartened by the cold statistical analysis that presumes test scores to be an accurate measure of a persons abilities. He just might be a mechanic one day, and I pray he is happy regardless of what he chooses. But for some group of people to.... well, I won't get too wound up- you parents know where I am going with this.

And so, this has left his parents prayer harder, and fretting more over his already volatile self-esteem and future. Can he be whatever he chooses? Certainly. Can he go to college and be one of the best teachers on earth- Ab-So-Lutely. (can't he?)
Why then do we narrow the World of Opportunity for our children down to a "Career List" of 26 categories, A-Z?? My father used to promise me as a child that I could do anything I chose to if I just set my mind to it. I believed him then and I believe that now. Yes, hard work and determination are involved somewhere in the career equation. Right now, my son doesn't see that need. Perhaps he hasn't found a goal important enough to him to work that hard.
Like Peter Pan, he is trying to stay in Neverland, never to grow up, never to take on boring adult responsibilities. It is frustrating for him and his parents. Slowly I do see changes, so painfully slow at times. But, seriously, after being told by 4 graphs and 6 charts what you are good for...who wouldn't want to go with Peter to the Lost Boys hideout and never come out again? I just might pack our bags tonight! We're coming Tink!

Sabotage

I have discovered that I am not supposed to be super model thin. I used to feel like Cindy Crawford under all this, just knowing that one day I would grow 5 inches, have long, flowing hair and legs that start where my chin is now.
I now know that will never be. I know this because of pizza night. I have been working on small lifestyle changes to my diet. I had a salad when everyone else had pasta and pizza. I made myself pasta for lunch and ended up throwing most of it out. Yay, me.
Then today, the evil public school system announces that it is CiCi's night for the Elementary School. 10% of sales goes to the school. How can I not support that? Shame on Satan for using small children and cheese covered dough to ruin me. Sigh. Oh, I can hear you now- they have soup and salad there, too. True, and I just might do that. But you try sitting in the middle of the factory that makes your favorite food and nibble on plants. Not always fun.


On another note, the weather is sabotaging my 'List of Household Work to be Done'. Balmy and bright when I made the list, it has been windy and wet- and it will be frigid tomorrow- not conducive to painting, repairing or soil preparing.

The many mom things I do that rely on the internet are also being sabotaged. Pay taxes? Frozen screen. Look up trailers for the Band? An error has shut me down. Paying bills? Internet security is taking so long to do a daily scan, it times out the funds so I have to wait 45 minutes to resend and make sure I didn't double pay.

I am thinking of getting out the vaccum and searching for Gremlins. Sabotage is frustrating, tiresome, annoying, and makes me want to throw something.

But then, God reaches over and sends a little thumb sucking Llama over to duck under my arm and say, "Momma, I love you- I want you to come play with me." And I know that my work is being put to the side, again- Ahhh, what a wonderful way to be sabotaged.

Basic Anatomy

Llama is 4. She is blatantly honest. She is curious. And loudly talkative... And I thought it would be cool to buy a 'lift-the-flap' book about the human body. Slap me.

It really is a fun book, we get to talk about the lungs and how smoking affects them. We dwell on how muscles move bones; how the heart pumps blood and why we need to eat good food. Red blood cells, taste buds, spinal cord, and snot.

Llama and crew are now obsessed with the digestive system. The book describes, in perfect child-level detail, how the food goes from the mouth, through the body, to the toilet- all with revealing flaps at each stop along the way. And the wonderful authors of this book, with its nifty flaps, had the forethought to include a very exciting flap.... the flap that reveals what happens to food once it comes to the end of the line, so to speak.

Yes, I speak of that 'P' word that rhymes with 'soup'. Ok, so I'll just say it- poop. There, happy?
The book calls it Waste, but we children LOVE the cartoonish brown blob under that flap at the end of the large intestine. I mean, judging by their reaction, it's like the biggest thrill of their lives thus far. (excluding their first trip to Chuck-E-Cheese's, of course).

And that's not all, they roll around in fits of laughter to learn that our rear-end is just a muscle that helps us move our legs. You'd think we were looking at a bare fanny from the reaction! Oh, wait, you'd have to see the faces when we find out what boogers are made of! Bet you wish you could lift that flap personally! :) And the poor kidneys and bladder are getting their flap worn out, all for the love of seeing some pee-yellow colored drips.

I say all this to let you know that this Llama is so smart, so aware, that she entertains herself (and tortures me) with the retelling of how her anatomy works while in the public bathroom at Kohls. While eating lunch at McDonalds. While 40 people are waiting to use the packed stalls at the movies.
Everywhere, unsuspecting children, elderly and anyone within hearing distance will shortly learn how asthma constricts the lungs. How the eyeball sees. How the brain sends messages down our spine. And what poop is. Never forget, you need to know what poop is. If you aren't sure what poop is, ask Llama.

It is wonderful that she learns so quickly. I do love teaching her new things. And,really, it might be helpful information for some stranger at Walmart, right?

I am considering a slight delay on the reproductive anatomy lesson, however, until she can learn to stop announcing where she doesn't want to grow hair when she grows up- to the nice lady in the stall next to hers at Walmart...

For the Family

Last night, my husband and son decided to place a wager on who would win the Saints-Vikings game. Joe Cool picked the Vikings; Dad, the Saints. The loser has to wash dishes every night for a week. It was a real nail-biter, my son being the most nervous about losing and having to expose his skin to soapy water for seven days straight. He had reason to be worried- Joe Cool Jr. Lost.

Just before the game ended, I made the comment that I was the REAL winner in this deal, regardless of the outcome. Me. Mom. Chief cook and bottle washer. Dish washer extraordinaire.

My husband looked at me funny and said, " I thought the things we do around here were for the entire family, not just for one person." It gave me pause. It made me ponder. I wondered if I should be ashamed for my view on this. Then it occurred to me that if what we do around the house if for each other, then how come I do all the doing?

The flip side of that thought was the understanding that my husband works 60+ hours a week for the family, not just himself. He puts us first by providing for us, and I put them first by doing for them. (I won't list all the ways I help with the business and his other work as well.)

So, now I feel guilty, as usual, for wishing someone else would lighten my load. I feel bad asking Dad for help since he works so much. Joe Cool helps if I drag him away from the solar system where he is the Center of the Universe. Llama is some help when she can be, but generally she is at the age where picking up and cleaning are beneath her- since she's a Princess and all.

I suppose it is my fault for taking the housework load on to myself. Tending to the house, chores, etc. is something everyone should do to help the family function smoothly and efficiently.
I guess what I feel is that while we should all pitch in, no one thinks of doing so.

Oh, occasionally, when the dishes are blocking access to to the coffee pot, Dad will load the dish washer. And Joe Cool will do it without too much fussing, never without being asked and rarely thoroughly. I guess what I need is some consistency. Some predictability of who will be doing what, when.

And so, tonight- after I finishing cleaning up when everyone has gone to bed- I think I will make a chore chart for the entire family. Like Jo-Jo on SuperNanny, I will make a sticker chart for Llama, and if the guys need it, I will go find some gold star stickers so they too can feel accomplished. Just like I do when the floor is freshly swept, mopped and shiny....just before they track mud across it.

:) Happy Monday!

A brief moment

Just a few moments ago, while riding home from our weekly treat of McDonald's for lunch with the kids, I got the sweetest surprise.
The only boy I care for, almost 4 yr old Spiderman, was slurping away on his drink when he said, "Mrs. Caffy, I wuv you."

And that, my friends, made my day.

Hi, my name is Mama, and I'm fat

I have a friend whom I haven't seen in 22 years. She is coming to Texas to visit her family and hopefully we will be able to get together along with a few other friends from the grand old 80's.

Last night, as I closed my eyes for the day, it occurred to me that I am 22 years older than I used to be, several pounds heavier and a few wrinkles past 16. Egads!

In my mind we are in suspended animation, hair teased as high as possible, slouch socks and Ked's on our feet- Bruce Springsteen and Wham! are still playing on the radio. We sit by the boom-box and smack 'record' on the cassette tape deck as soon as the DJ stops talking over our favorite song. And the biggest cares in the world we have are who kissed whom, who will get their drivers license first, and if our parents will let us hang out at the mall- alone.

Through this great gadget called the internet, I have seen what she looks like now....the same. Oh, the laugh lines are deeper, and life has put more concern in her eyes, but outwardly, she hasn't changed much. I have. And she is coming in a week. With her husband. No time to lose 40 pounds. Hormones are wreaking havoc on my hair lately, it's in a perpetual state of ick. And my wardrobe is 'laundry day' chic.

This has made me realize how much I have let myself go. It's bad. I have been chalking it up to the kids, the business, lack of structure to our hectic schedules and that I am too busy to be fashionable and in shape. But she and another friend I will see both have 2 kids, jobs and lives. So what's the deal? Laziness somedays. Lack of pride in myself, others. Putting myself last, for sure.

So, I will go shopping for a cute outfit, if one can be found in the size 'yuck'. I will work on the hair. I will start writing down what I eat every moment, and we will see. I secretly would like to set a goal of walking in the 60 mile Breast cancer 3-Day, but I am afraid of failing. I am afraid of having to work that hard. I am afraid of leaving this fat, but familiar and comfortable body behind.

I feel great when I am thinner, no doubt. I feel more confident and prettier. I like how my husband looks at me then. So why can't I get motivated to do it? I don't know. There are all kinds of excuses that come to mind, but are any of them reasonable? I watch Biggest Loser, and I know that no excuse is a good one. I sure wish Jillian lived with me.

Sigh. Enough pity party for me. In a week I will see the faces of a wonderful time in my life and I will love seeing them. Fat or not. Meanwhile, I will go find my spiral, write down the cinnamon roll I had for breakfast, weigh myself and write it down, and go work on my hair.

I will update on my progress later.

Rules of Children

Along with my own Llama- age 4, I am privileged to also care for a Llama in the making-1 1/2, a Certified Princess-4, and a Super Hero-3. Needless to say, every day is an adventure. We have also been foster parents and often have other kids with us.

Here are several common truths I have learned... (not necessarily related to the current children at all)...

1. The "MINE" rule is real: What's mine is mine, what's yours is mine. And the patience level is directly related to how badly I want it to be 'mine' right NOW.
2. There will always be one child that does not want to do whatever it is everyone else is doing.
3. There will always be one child that wants to be alone- in the middle of whatever room everyone else is in.
4. There will always be a 50/50 divide on macaroni and cheese preferences- half prefer traditional Kraft, the other half likes Velveeta shells & cheese. So every other time, 2 kids won't eat.

4.1. Some might not like peanut butter, others, no jelly- but no one likes crust- so be sure to have some long blade scissors on hand to simplify crust removal!

5. If you present a food the kids don't like, let them make it gross and they'll eat it. Carrots are nasty? Dip them in yogurt and ketchup- instant YUM. I still don't know why.
6. Socks are bio-degraded and disappear as soon as they land on the floor.
7. A diaper clad child will often poop when you are in a hurry and on your way out the door.
8. The amount of snot expelled with a sneeze is directly related to the distance the child is out of reach from a tissue wielding mother in the car.
9. The children have figured out how to not be seen hitting each other or fighting, they can even do it out of view of my 'eyes in the back of my head'.
10. If a child says, "what?" or "huh?" to a question, they did it. period.
11. A dancing child is often in denial about needing to pee, and will only admit it after fully clothed in 3 layers of coats, sweaters and gloves...
12. Waking a child before they are done napping is not beneficial to your sanity.
13. Any business that does not offer either the exact same gender generic toy, or the right number of gender specific toys should be boycotted and should be aware that they may one day have to pay for my medications.
14. If you care for a few beloved children, complete strangers will think you are fair game to ask if you will care for their kids. They do not know you, they do not care. Scarey, huh?
15. Libraries are the best place for a parent to let off steam- all that "shhhhh"-ing is just steam.
16. Reading books will save a parents sanity, always, in any situation.
17. A parent sitting in the floor is an automatic monkey perch, pillow, trampoline and wrestling opponent. All at once. And happily.
18. The number of variations of naptime kisses is infinite. Princess, Frog, Batman and Ballerina kisses are all completely different, yet perfect in their execution from slobbery kid lips!
19. The length of a child's nap is exactly 1/2 as long as you need it to be.
20. Never be afraid to become completely absorbed in the book you are reading to the child to the extent that you do all the voices, motions and facial expressions. The look on the kids faces is worth it, always.

and 21. Never forget that hugs, kisses and snuggles are always welcome, even if they're mad. And they are freely given back in return, always, even when you are mad.

And my lesson for today...that broken stick you saw but didn't move before the child climbed up the tree? Yeah, she fell.. yeah, it scratched her. Every time.

Happy Wednesday ya'll!

Trickery!

So, this morning, Joe Cool is up early, dressed and eating breakfast. I comment on how lively he is, chalking it up to him going to bed early last night because he was exhausted from a long weekend.

But then...

He happily helped his sister get out of bed. (my eyebrow raised) Then he laughed with her as he helped her brush her teeth. (my mouth hangs open) AND he combed and fixed her hair, nicely. (does he want money?)AND he wanted to make her breakfast...
(I asked him what he wanted at this point)

Llama wanted oatmeal. He let her help him make it. He put their backpacks in the car. He fed the cat and cleaned out the litter box... ( I wondered if I died and gone to heaven, or was he an alien who replaced my abducted teen?)

THEN, I smell it- some strong 'boy if it smells good with one spray, 10 sprays would be awesome' kind of scented fog wafting down the hallway. AH HA! I've got him, this must be all about a GIRL! I am not dead, it's just hormones...

5 minutes later, he announces that it is time to leave for school. It is 7:25am. 5-10 minutes before we typically leave. I am still in a robe. I tell him that we can't leave now, I'm not dressed and his sister doesn't get to school this early (she usually gets dropped off first).

Poof. The illusion is over. He starts dancing around, trying to not yell and have a fit. So, I ask about the girl, why he has to go so early to see her? Here it is, I think smuggly, he is going to have to admit there is a girl, and who she is...

Crud. Not a girl. Morning D-Hall. Too many tardies in a 3 week time period and you get D-Hall. He has to be there by 7:30. And the clock is ticking...and it will be my fault if he is late and he will get another D-Hall. Of course, all my fault. Riiigggghhhhtt. Gotcha.

Sigh. I liked the illusion, it was a fun 30 minutes of perfection. Family Bliss. I love that boy. I could strangle him sometimes.

Is it bad that I sure hope he gets more tardies, and soon?

The Fruit

Ok, so today is much more calm. We have company, two of 3 siblings that lived with us for 18 months, several years ago. We love having them and we claim them as ours. Llama tells everyone she has 3 brothers and a sister, and after a few days with us, occasionally one will slip and call us Mom or Dad. And that's ok, because that is the part we play, and we love them.

I was going to continue to delve into those "fruit of the spirit" that I have yet to master, so today I will think about 'Kindness'. Such a deceptive word with such a broad range of ways to use it. An action that sometimes I forget to use.

Oh, I know how to be polite- though I often interrupt others. I know how to let someone else in line before me, and I know how to give a hug at church. I guess when I think about kindness I realize that I am lacking in the area of going out of my way. If you are in my path, no problem, I can kindness you to pieces. If I need to call or visit, make something, or take time away from my day-forget it.
I suppose it is a level of arrogance to not reach out from my well-worn path. And the only excuse I have is that the habits of life have dug a rut and are hard to steer out of.

When I stop to think of all that can define kindness, I end up with more actions than words. And when I really think, kindness is something that can be practiced every minute- every single minute. Wow. Now that is not easy...yet. I have seen kindness in human form, so I know it is attainable; I envy terribly those wonderful people who model kindness in everything they do.

So, I am going to work on turning the wheel and driving on a path that allows me to be more kind. Funny how these fruit that grow on the Spirit tree all seem to work together....patience and kindness go hand-in-hand. Crud. So I can't be one without the other. Geesh, talk about a serious overhaul and remodel!
Look out, construction zone ahead.....

Boys are Ostriches

I am sorry to admit it, but, well... I have a teenage son. Wait, on second thought, perhaps I should proudly be declaring that, because he has survived my wrath this long. I know this is quite the feat because of a certain phrase that I have said so often, even his 4 yr old sister now says it, "What were you thinking son?"

I know, that is another of those dumb parent questions that we instantly regret, knowing that we will get some idiotic answer.

Today, we are riding the merry-go-'round about his cell phone. No, he hasn't been getting or sending anything inappropriate. This time, he was too lazy to buy his texting minutes and has spent $50 in two weeks, mostly through texting.

I am going to call this what Dave Ramsey does- this is a Joe Cool "stupid tax". He has a pay-as-you-go phone, to help him manage his money and phone usage. $20 would have paid for a months worth of texting, the other $30 was given to him as a gift by his Granny. Because he was too lazy, obtuse, stubborn or whatever, he now is out of minutes and has 2 weeks of time left before he is allowed to buy more. (we help him budget by letting him renew the minutes once a month)

Ostriches in the sand. Boys. TEEN Boys. Sticking their heads down deep in the comfort of the sand, blocking out noise and thought. Coming up for air only long enough to vacuum out the refrigerator, look around while scratching something and saying, "WHUT?" and "HUH?" with a Homer Simpson, "DOH" face.

If I were a Mama Ostrich, I would have plucked all my own feathers out by now. I would be walking around with my scrawny bird legs and a bare Ostrich tush waddling- honking (what do ostriches sound like, anyway?) and pecking Joe in the head. Sigh. Instead, I use my mommy-isms and walk around muttering to myself, shaking my head and eating pasta.

This is another of those learning and growing moments. I know. But man, I sure wish this turkey, I mean ostrich, would bring back that fella with a brain and common sense- Please, and for the love of his mothers sanity, soon.

Llama causes Mama Trauma

On a side note away from my 'Fruit-y" post, I would like to discuss a certain little girl.
This girl, Llama, Llama, Girly Drama, is almost 5 now, and two years ago she was excited to be a flower girl in a beloved friends wedding. She did a wonderful job and was beautiful in her creamy white "wedding dress". To help her understand what her job was in the wedding, we told her it was her job to help her friends get married. She twisted that around and still tells people that she is already married, she married Szalan & Ryan. I began thinking perhaps we had watched one too many Disney Princess movies...

This leads me to yesterday. Yesterday, my sweet, innocent, lively bundle of love finally let her curiosity get to her....and she played kissing with a certain 'younger man'. She has been preoccupied with kissing since that wedding 2 years ago, and when she sees her parents kiss, however briefly, she tries to get us to give her, "long kisses on the lips". Again, one too many Belle and Cinderella movies.

SO, I find her letting this boy smooch her belly. I almost fainted. Perhaps a slight overreaction, but there was my angel baby and this boy- who is also a wonderfully perfect child- smooching. Barf. When asked what they were doing, the boy said, "playing cowboys". I knew who the instigator of this game was, so I turned to Llama and did that dumb thing, I asked her, "Who's idea was this?"

(Now that left me open to all kinds of outrageous replies, I know, but every once in awhile, a parent just says one of those crazy sayings, like "stop it or I'll give you something to cry about", or the world wide best parent-ism, "BECAUSE I SAID SO!")

Anyway, Cowboy just sat there with gigantic blue eyes and hem-hawed around, while Llama stuck her chin out in defiance. I separated the two since it was nap time anyway, and while tucking Llama in, I asked again, like the thunder-struck mother I was.

She replied, in the dramatic way only a 5 yr old Llama can, "But Mommy, I LOVE him!" Scarlett O'Hara hung her head in shame. Juliet wept with the beauty of it! Carey Grant & Deborah Kerr (from An Affair to Remember) gave a standing ovation. I almost cried.

Later, I called her father to report that our daughter may need intensive therapy, and that I needed a sedative; then, after all the children I care for were gone for the day, I approached the subject again... I know- I was asking for it...

I told Llama, with her father's sage advice, that she was too young to be kissing boys, that her kisses were for her family only and that God gave us our bodies as a very personal, important thing to take very good care of. She was not to kiss boys. Period.

To which she replied, "I will stop kissing boys if you stop bossing me around." On a side note, I think this was a typical attempt to test boundaries because she has been telling her brother and father that they aren't the boss of her lately, but the timing was very bad for her to choose to try this out on me...

To my credit, (yes, you may applaud here), I guess my blog about patience yesterday helped Llama stay alive with narry a sore bottom (ok, ONE swat) because I simply sat down and again explained to her that her parents would be her bosses for a long time because God gave her parents to care for her and help her to learn which things are good and ok, versus bad and rotten. This sent her off into a discussion of how scared she would be without us. So, the crisis was over....for this day.

Later,at church, my darling husband wanted the parents of the Cowboy o'Love to know that he had just bought himself a future bride. To much chuckling, we parents joked and made light of a childhood adventure... but this Mama is too freaked out to not be worried about a certain Llama in 10 years. For now, I am considering a ban of all princess movies, boys and perhaps even lips in the house. Check them at the door, please, so that I can survive. Thank you.

(where's the muzzle... super glue...key to the cage...)
sigh.

Old Age

If God loves me, and I know He does, I will be living to a ripe old age. I know this because of a poster I saw once, "Everything I ever needed to know I learned in Kindergarten". Sure, I learned to share, color in the lines, hands are for helping, not hurting; criss-cross apple sauce, hands in your lap.....but the poster left out some things...

There are 9 Fruit of the Spirit listed in Galatians 5:22-23, "²²But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³ gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.". Of these 9, I totally get joy, I have felt love, I have seen goodness, and I understand peace because I long for it...as for the rest, well, I have failed the test.

Patience- the one everyone jokes about, the one they say NOT to pray for, the thorn in my side, will be the reason I might live 834 years. I picked that number because I am thinking that by then I will be so wise, deaf, and blind that nothing could make me impatient! "I can't hear you!", I will say. "I can't see you!", I will say...or I will be so wise, "It takes 3 licks to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop", I will expound.

It's either live that long, or maybe I should do the hard thing and just buckle down, slow down and try to be more patient. But what fun is there in not breaking loose with a good old-fashioned fit? I mean, I feel so June Cleaver-ish when I get down on one knee and calmly discuss an issue with Llama. Sometimes I just want to stop my feet, point my finger and yell at her like she does me. What's wrong with that? Why can't I stick my tongue out and blow?

Sigh. I know, "it might feel good at the time, but you will regret it later". I know. I know. I know. Being the adult STINKS sometimes. OK, so maybe I do try to be patient more than I thought...Maybe I am helping my children grow into marvelous people by bending down on that knee. Poo. I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to....(to be continued)

Neverland

Having a teen and a pre-schooler certainly has its advantages. I get to make the older do things for the younger, like get her toothbrush ready, help her put her shoes on, etc. There is little to no sibling rivalry and, generally speaking, they are like two only children- both in their own world.

The disadvantage is that they rarely play together, are too far apart to confide in each other and there have been many melt-downs when Joe wouldn't let Llama come in his room, or play football with he and his friends.

There are rare moments, like last night, however, that are beautiful...

Llama came bouncing (as llamas do) into the kitchen to tell me she was going to take a bath with Joe. I asked her if Joe knew that, and she said, "yes".
Joe Cool- Mr. Video game, Mr. Sports, Mr. Check Out My Muscles, did indeed put on his bathing suit and jump in the tub with his sister.
For over 30 minutes, there was splashing, laughing, toy playing, shampoo filled hair sculpting and flooding of the bathroom floor.

As suddenly as it happened, when the water cooled, Joe was back in his room, door locked. Llama was back to dancing, and wiggling to her MP3 songs...

In two years, Joe Cool will be off to college and Llama will be in1st grade. He will move on to 'grown-up' things and she will be deep into maneuvering her way through the social network of public school. There will be no more baths together.

Right now Joe is in the exact middle of Teenager- he is mean, obnoxious and secretive. Other days he is argumentative, beligerant and sullen- and some days he is all of this combined. But then the sun seems to come out, he kisses me good morning, hugs his sister, does the dishes with no complaints. Some days, like today, we are given relief from the hostility that is a testosterone filled teen boy- and it is beautiful. It is a teasing glimpse into the wonderful, caring, tender, sweet man he will be. I cannot wait to meet that man.

My Peter Pan, my Pooh Bear, Daddy's Little Man sometimes returns to Neverland-To be a boy, not a care in the world. I miss him. And on days like today, I am glad he came out to play...
and so was Llama.

Remembering

This time of year, when the madness of Christmas is behind me, I start to think. As painful as that is, and as much smoke as it produces, I think. What, you may ask, could make me do such a foolish thing? My children, of course.

God knew what He was doing when He gave us two children not born of my womb, just our hearts. I cannot imagine what a nightmare I would be if I could hold pregnancy & delivery guilt stories over the heads of my children. God spared them the torture. (Of course, it gave me one less excuse for the post-baby fat I carry around).

Every year I write a letter to a birth mother. I write it because I promised to. In some way it gives me peace and in a twisted way it makes me feel less guilty. I have not received a reply yet, though I stamp each envelope with a clearly marked return address. I both hope for and fear a reply.

I agonize over pictures to be sure there isn't location information in them, and I fret over sending too many close up pictures because everyone knows you will run in to everybody you know at Walmart eventually. I am careful to only use first names and birth names. I don't know if my fears of being located before they are adults is rational or not, but it is real.

On the other hand, it is a joy to me to be able to look back on the last year of their lives! I try to imagine what I would want to know if I were waiting for this letter, and I write. It is harder because my children were not given to me by the birth parents choice, but I imagine that they still love them, and I tell them how much these children are loved.

I write, edit, cry, and laugh. I do it in private, my husband has never read the letters- I am a mother writing a woman who was, for a brief moment, a mother. Her wrongs do not take that biology away.

And so, this time of year, because I think- I am more withdrawn, less creative, less lively. But give me time...the smoke will clear. Then the craziness resumes.

In the Beginning...

After driving everyone crazy with multiple random postings on Facebook, a few suggested I start a blog. So,in an effort to not run all of my friends off,here we go...

As a stay-at-home mom of a teen and pre-schooler, wife and business co-owner, I stay as busy as any other average 21st century Domestic Goddess and Ruler of the World. To stay sane, I try to pay attention to the small funny details of this life that we all share.

I will attempt to post the escapades of our lives. I don't consider it particularly exciting, but every day takes us on a new ride. I like to find humor through my children, and they certainly provide plenty of fodder.

Life is an unexpected, wonderful adventure....I hope you will be able to relate, commiserate and laugh with me.

(It could be a scary thing for me to type what goes on in my head!)